Violet Elizabeth
by Wrive
Summary: After the Epilogue, Dudley and his wife are surprised to find themselves pregnant again. Twenty years later, that daughter is surprised to find herself pregnant. Then, in 2049, sixty-nine year old Dudley is surprised to find his eleven year old granddaughter has a letter. But how to explain that it's real? Characters are all from, or descended from, J K Rowling's Harry Potter.
1. Chapter 1

It's a common story. A young man and a young woman meet at a bar and have a few drinks… not enough to get drunk, but enough to forget about their pesky early morning appointments. She's attractive and he's friendly. He pushes her long, silky blonde hair back and his tidy black goatee bristles as they kiss for the first time. They retire to someone's room and, well, have a little consensual fun. And suddenly it's 6am and she's remembered she's got uni at eight and by half past she's already pounding down the pavement, running for, in some sense, her life. Meanwhile, back in the bed he's slowly stirring, rising with the rising clatter of the dustmen outside the window. As he listens he remembers he's meant to be shifting some dodgy cauldrons his dad dumped on him and with a crack he's gone. And then, simultaneously, both remember where they've been. But he's in London and she never caught his name.


	2. Chapter 2

When you live in a semi-rural village at the foot of gently rising, green hills you get used to some basic things. Firstly, the postman comes later in the day. Secondly, your dad is never going to turn up right on twelve. He's going to get caught in traffic, the old codger insisting on navigating with his smartphone instead of letting the car do the hard work. Still, there are advantages. For one, your daughter can wander off for a few hours, no worries. It's almost like living in a heyday that older folk say died a few decades back. Almost. After all, didn't your old dad say he and his mates used to roam around and terrorise the younger kids? Roseanne was sure her Violet would mention any local bullies. But, then, there weren't really that many local children anyway. And what if Violet was the bully herself? Surely her mum would know?

"Honk!" The sudden blast of the horn on her dad's car brought Roseanne's wandering mind back to the straight and narrow. It was, as her dad always said, an effective one two for a day dreamer. It was an even better way to get a thirty one year old history teacher to walk out of her house at ten in the morning to hug a sixty-nine year old man.

"Hey, Dad. Good drive?" The question was something of a formality but the affection was sincere. She may have changed her name when she got caught up in the wrong crowd in her first year, but Roseanne Orange still loved her father.

"Yeah, pretty good. Just a little bit of traffic on the motorway but that's life. Where's little Violet?" The big, once heavily muscled man lit up as he mentioned his youngest grandchild: the shadow of his own father's death a few months before Roseanne's birth revealed itself in the resultant glow.

"Violet! Granddad's here!" Roseanne smiled and flicked a stray, now dirty blonde hair out of her eyes, "She's not so little any more Dad. Growing taller every day."

And, indeed, young Violet Elizabeth Orange was growing ever taller: a full ten centimetres since her tenth birthday, in fact. This prodigious growth was matched only by the now navel-length, dark chestnut hair that grew dead straight, in contrast to her mother's distinct wave. Between her hair and the twinkling blue eyes, Roseanne had always felt strongly that were Violet ever to go missing those two features would be just too distinctive for anyone to miss. They were also the only features that Roseanne thought might have come from her father. Otherwise, Roseanne and Violet shared the same pale, difficult to tan skin, the slight sprinkling of freckles over the nose and that sought after healthy full face look. But that hair was something else, even as Violet ran down from the balcony to hug her grandfather it streamed out like a kite's tail but Roseanne knew, just knew, that as soon as Violet stopped moving it'd settle. And by settle, Roseanne's thoughts enviously meant "be perfect".

"Granddad!" Aside from an emotionally distant uncle, Violet's grandfather was the only constant male presence in her life. This may have helped develop a bond that otherwise wouldn't have been there. Certainly, her (older) cousins never got on as well with the man. "When are we leaving?"

"Pretty much straight away. Are you going to get the post? The mail box looked full?" This was directed more at Roseanne, even though Violet's granddad displayed fitness many of his friends were envious of, to crouch down and look Violet in the eye.

"Yeah, go get the post sweetie. I'm sure there's probably a few birthday cards."

"You know, when you were her age there wouldn't have been a single card. It's remarkable what a single big security scare can do for people's habits."

"Yes Dad, you say that every year." Roseanne's exasperation vanished quickly though, she had a more pressing question. "How's mum?"

"Better. The doctor's say she'll be walking again this time next week. That was a bad fall, Rosie: it takes time." The warmth in his face faded as he spoke, but only for a moment for Violet returned from the mailbox promptly. "You hop in the car, Vi. I'll be there in a minute."

"That's good. Will you take Vi up to see her?"

"Maybe. We're going to the zoo, that's a good treat for an eleventh. If we've got enough time left on the way back…"

"Six, dad. Definitely six. Big day tomorrow, all her friends are coming round. Going to be a bit tricky. Most of them don't know Vi'll be coming to school with me in the city."

"She got in? That's great news, honey!"

"Shh, Dad. I haven't told her yet either. The official letter's going to be late because the computer system went down last week. That annoyed Vi a little because I said she could use the web while I finished up my plans. I'm telling Vi tomorrow. I think it'll be easier if she knows her friends know she won't be at school with her…"

"I'm not…." For a momentary second, Roseanne remembered why she'd been so easily convinced into becoming Roseanne Orange. Her dad had views on education, despite his relative lack of it: action would be required.

"Anyway, have a good time Dad!" It was a cheery little wave. The sort that knows its offspring is off to have fun, leaving the mother to do a lot of cleaning and preparation for the last of the big childhood parties.


	3. Chapter 3

"What were you and mum talking about Granddad?"

"Just when you need to be back home." The mirror was adjusted slightly to allow for a better view of the car behind… it was big, black and really keen on tailgating the much smaller, economical family car. "Any good birthday cards?"

"Yeah, lots. But the last one looks weird."

"Yeah?"

"The address is funny. Why put, 'The Small Bedroom' under my name?" Without noticing, Violet missed her granddad pull off a truly miraculous peace of driving. The words provoked an instant reaction and that was to slam the breaks on. But, of course, the tailgater was there, just two metres behind. Somehow, using skills the younger car-reliant generation just didn't have, Violet's grandfather managed to avoid the surely inevitable crash. He wasn't sure how he did it, but he did. In the meantime, Violet had opened her strangely addressed, and quite weighty, envelope. "Granddad, what's Hogwarts?"

White knuckles gripped wheel as an emergency u-turn was deployed. Violet's grandfather had decided that a detour would have to be made before the trip to the zoo. "It's a school." The words were firm, and kind of final, so Violet read on, her grandfather muttering in the background, "I thought they'd do things differently. Really. I'm amazed." Then she stopped registering the increasingly confused sounds coming from the mouth of a man who recently should have earnt a nomination for 'world's best driver in a reasonably priced car'… surely the letter was mistaken? It couldn't possibly be true? She read the letter again.

Dear Miss Orange

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Neville Longbottom

Deputy Headmaster

There was more to it than this but Violet felt unable to draw her eyes away from the page. For twenty minutes she did nothing but stare at the paper, out the window or reading it again. Somewhere inside her, something itched to read on, but although her fingers could feel the other papers, although her grandfather's mutterings made it seem like he knew what it was, that sense of 'this cannot possibly be real' just left her there. Stuck. She didn't really notice the sound of gravel underneath the tires, as her grandfather pulled into a driveway. Sheltered by cypresses he drove for two, maybe three minutes, at what was a breakneck pace for loose metal in a long, narrow twister of an entrance to a house. When he reached the end, where the land actually levelled out a bit and then spread a little wider, he skidded a bit. The noise drew an occupant from the house. He was scrawny, not really tall, with messy black hair that had hints of grey and an old scar, a jagged one, hidden under his fringe.

"Harry!" Violet started. Much like the horn to her mother, her grandfather's voice brought her back. Although, really, it was more a case of unsticking her from a place of vague awareness.

"Dudley?" The scrawny man came forwards. For the first time, Violet took in his features. She also quickly realised that the scar was more than just jagged, it was lightning shaped. By the time her grandfather had got out of his door and was, somewhat awkwardly it must be said, offering a hand, Violet noticed that the scrawny man had a number of other, smaller, scars on his hands and face. He was almost frighteningly different but his voice… definitely wasn't. "Why are you here?"

Dudley lent forwards, still shaking his cousin's hand, "My granddaughter, she's got a letter. From Hogwarts."

"What?"


	4. Chapter 4

Violet had followed her grandfather as he walked a few metres behind his cousin, although at that stage Violet hadn't been introduced. She had shared his expectation of going into the remarkably open-plan, yet still busily quaint house and kept silent as they instead veered towards a smaller brick building set to the side. She noticed the view, but not the ha-ha, just beyond what was surely a shed, but somehow not a shed, and almost stopped, realising the flowers weren't quite like those her grandmother grew. She looked at her feet, in that way children do when a situation is quite beyond them, as her grandfather toddled, definitely toddled, through an obviously heavy door into the not-quite-shed. She didn't look up, not until her grandfather spoke.

"Vi, this is my cousin Harry. He's going to explain your letter to you."

"May I see your letter?" Harry lent forwards. Like his cousin, age, not yet at least, hadn't seemed to affect his mobility. In the light of the not-quite-shed, Violet realised he was kind of wrinkled… her vague aura of terror was suddenly dissipated. Still, nervousness remained, but not enough to stop her from handing her letter over. She held on to the envelope, though. Somehow it seemed really important to do that.

"Well?" Violet's grandfather still had a nervousness to him.

"You're right, it is odd. But it's definitely correct. I guess I'll just explain." At this, Dudley sank into a chair. Even with a man of Dudley's bulk, the chair seemed huge. Certainly, it dwarfed the otherwise similar chair just behind Harry's legs. Dudley didn't care though. His unease was lifted by the reassurance of his cousin.

"Explain what?" Violet's demeanour had changed while Harry read her letter. The old nervousness and feeling of being out of place had gone. Part of this was due to her grandfather's relief. Mostly it was down to Violet's growing confidence that she was the reason for the visit, but not because she'd done something wrong.

"Yer a wizard, Violet." And with that reference to one of the worst nights of Dudley's life, Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it at the tea set resting on a humble wooden table between himself and his cousin. The teacup promptly transformed into a gerbil. Dudley swallowed. Almost sixty years has passed since he'd found out about magic but it still didn't rest easy with him.

"Woah." Violet stared in amazement as the ex-teacup ran off the table and headed for, well, Violet never found out because Harry changed it back. It was a little scary. But it was mostly the most incredible thing Violet had ever seen. "Uh… I c-can do that?"

Harry smiled. It was a Dumbledore kind of smile, and Harry smile warmed as the thought occurred to him. It was good for him to think of the mentor he knew as the mentor he knew. Not a picture on a wall, a tragic hero or a corpse falling from a tower. "Not yet. But you will learn. That's what Hogwarts is for. It teaches you how to use magic and how to understand it. I'm sure you've done things that are difficult for you to explain: that's uncontrolled magic."

"Oh, uh…" That she'd already done magic was not something that Violet had considered. "Uh…erm… I've done magic already?"

Harry smiled and sat down. "I'm certain. You may not even have noticed. My hair, for instance, couldn't be tamed. Is yours like that?"

Violet shook her head. What was Granddad's cousin thinking? Violet knew her hair was dead straight. Her mother never brushed it for the simple fact it never needed brushing. Dudley got the impression, on watching Harry's reaction to the inevitable return to the status quo, that Harry had an inkling her hair wasn't kept straight by heat.

"Violet, have you ever noticed that your hair is always dead straight?" Violet nodded. "That's magic. Your magic." Violet fainted. "Well, Big D, I guess not everyone takes it the same way."


End file.
